Fun Ballet Tutu News 2870

Tutu Drama: A Day of Chaos at the Royal Ballet

Dearest readers, imagine a day so filled with the flounce, twirl and drama that only ballerinas can bring – because darling, that was Wednesday, 4^th January 1997, and I wouldn't be surprised if you'd feel the tremors on the dance floor yourself! Let's just say it all started with a tutu.

But before I start – because darling, this story demands the full embellishment - picture it. The hallowed halls of the Royal Opera House, a haven of elegant art, all the dancers, a dream in pink (oh yes, those delicious tutus) - the very essence of the perfect performance. Now, imagine that in that picture, all hell broke loose.

It all began when a particularly flamboyant prima ballerina (let’s just call her Madame Fleur) – known for her tendency to steal the show in the most dramatic way possible – arrived to rehearsals in an eye-catching shade of bright pink. Her tutu, the piece de résistance, was, as they say, “out there”. Honestly, darling, the poor tutu seemed to glow, begging for attention. It wasn’t a simple ballerina pink, mind you, this was, well, flamingo pink – I tell you, if you saw her through a telescope, you’d think it was a flamingo perched atop the stage!

As you can imagine, whispers started, darting through the ranks of the company like so many fluttering butterflies. The other ballerinas, in their white, ivory, or very restrained pink, felt somewhat – how shall we put it – overlooked. I’d say, darling, it was not a “pink good” situation, at all. You know how it is in the world of ballet, darling - the delicate art of tutus and their shade is all part of the choreography.

There’s a hierarchy, an unspoken order - an understanding. Pink? That’s the delicate, beautiful classic, never demanding centre stage. This flamingo pink? It was a war cry - Madame Fleur was demanding attention! You could almost hear the gossiping at the ballet barre:

• “Has anyone ever seen such a vibrant shade?”
• “Is it supposed to be the colour of an angry flamingo? My God, is she actually competing with the lighting?
• "Surely it will detract from the overall feel of the ballet?!"

As for our prima ballerina, she remained unfazed. If anything, Madame Fleur relished the attention, striking a series of poses that only heightened the spectacle of her pink glory. I’m not surprised darling. Madame Fleur loves an audience. She even started wearing a tiny, feather boa of the exact same colour around her neck – it’s no coincidence this was inspired by a vintage “I Love Lucy” episode, darling, all of us ballet types adore that iconic redheaded queen.

It wasn’t all feathers and pink fluff, though, darling. Madame Fleur wasn’t the only one bringing the drama. As the rehearsals wore on, the other ballerinas were doing everything in their power to try and upstage her, even if they wouldn’t dare go against a prima ballerina’s choice of outfit - even in the privacy of the studio! It's quite shocking but I must report that the air thickened. Was there the slightest hint of…well…rivalry brewing, dear readers?

Now, picture this – in the midst of the tension-filled air, another dramatic element unfolded: one of the lead dancers, a girl called Clara (darling, she reminded me of one of those beautiful, ethereal, English rose ballet types who would make even a frog want to learn pirouettes) was rehearsing her grand jeté – that's one of those really showy leaps across the stage you know.

Imagine, the perfect line of her limbs, her hair – she's one of those dancers with those long, glossy ballet-bunny-style buns. It’s always been my view that no woman can pull it off better than a ballerina! And darling, she looked spectacular, but right as her feet left the ground, guess what, dear? That famous, oh-so-elegant leotard of hers suddenly… well…it decided to give up. There it was, hanging from the hem, an unmistakable rip.

Talk about a diva moment! My heart nearly stopped! It’s so very true - one must learn how to work around the awkward in the world of ballet, dear reader! Well, poor Clara had one minute, literally, before the big boss would enter the studio. Can you imagine?

Don’t fret though, my dear. Thankfully, a quick-witted young corps de ballet dancer – and she has the prettiest French name that I’ll confess I’ve forgotten but I believe it was Marie or Danielle, yes, that’s it! (Now how did I forget a French girl with a name that stunning?) - ripped a tiny scrap off a piece of discarded ribbon off of a costume, the very sort of little ribbon embellishments that often hang from the stage curtains, which was then fastened onto the poor leotard, somehow stopping the rip in its tracks and saved the day – even though this gave it a slightly odd but ultimately lovely asymmetrical look! I tell you, darling, it added a little je ne sais quoi, an effortless bit of Parisian whimsy to Clara’s attire – quite a stroke of genius. Now that’s the very meaning of 'make do and mend,' don't you think, dear reader?

You could imagine what the poor little ballet girl felt, seeing this grand, star dancer with this little tear in her outfit! However, Clara looked radiant despite it all. And, oh darling, can I confess it? As a lover of this type of graceful, delicate choreography in a leotard (as you must know if you read me regularly!) I loved it! The ballerina world’s secrets, little imperfections all become art in that magical lighting, darling!

Now darling, even after all this tutu-related commotion – you should have seen all of us backstage after, all chattering away at the tea-tray-filled table as we catch up on our world of delicate ribbons and fancy footwear – well, darling, I do have to admit something. This was not the worst news day for this balletic reporter. The dramatic costumes of the dancers and their performance, as it happens, did make for one extraordinary and interesting day – just perfect for the new year, as if I had ordered it for my next weekly column! Now that's how to launch into the New Year with a great bit of fashion news, eh?